


Citrine

by lady_wordsmith



Series: Fire, Faith, and Love (Matt Murdock/Reader) [7]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Implied Violence, Light Angst, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7886044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_wordsmith/pseuds/lady_wordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The discovery of a pair of your grandmother's earrings leads you to give them to Karen, which, in turn, leads to a confession about your estrangement with your brother. Without a word spoken, Matt lets you know that, in his own way, he cares, and your past hurt matters to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Citrine

**Author's Note:**

> Notes/translations at the end of the work.

You find the earrings when you’re digging around in the old dresser that used to belong to your _Oma_ , the one you keep in one of your guest rooms. The earrings are a delicate pair of teardrop gemstones, cradled in a scrolling overlay of rose and white golds. At first you think the gemstones are amber, but a closer look in good lighting reveals them to be citrine. Of course, your _Oma_ had loved citrine jewelry.

You let your fingers trace the criss-cross of the overlay, resting on the mark your _Opa_ had made to mark the jewelry as one of his own design. His mass-produced pieces used a stamp-like mark that clearly identified them as one of his pieces, but the personalized and commissioned pieces your grandfather made had a slightly simpler, more personal mark of his etched initials and a scrolling line underneath.

All of your grandmother’s jewelry, and a good portion of your own, bore this mark.

Your grandmother’s jewelry has never been your style. Every piece she owned had a certain delicacy that you knew you lacked. The jewelry suited your _Oma_ , though: delicate and willowy and fine the way she herself was. Compared to her, you’re a bull in a china shop.

Finding a piece of her jewelry always makes you happy (especially since, for whatever reason, your grandmother had often hid her jewelry in strange places), but you have plenty of reminders of your grandmother. You’ve never worn your grandmother’s jewelry, anyway, finding it not your taste. It’s better that the jewelry go to someone who will appreciate it. So after having the earrings professionally cleaned, you take them with you to Nelson and Murdock one day. You purposely choose a time when you know Matt and Foggy are in court, so that you can speak to Karen privately.

Karen smiles and greets you. “Matt’s in court,” she tells you.

“I know. I was hoping to speak with you,” you tell her, digging in your purse for the box the jeweler who cleaned the earrings had placed them in. “I was cleaning, because Matt keeps giving me his judge-y face, you know-“

Karen laughs at that. “He does do that quite well, doesn’t he?” she asks, and you notice her eyes have drifted to watch you fumble with your purse.

“Yes, he does. So I was cleaning, and I found a pair of earrings. They used to belong to my grandmother- Ah ha!” you pull out the box with a flourish of triumph. “So, these earrings of my grandmother’s. Don’t get me wrong, I love my little mementos as much as the next person. But I can’t wear my grandmother’s jewelry. It looks all wrong on me. So-“

And you open the box and place it on Karen’s desk. She gives a little gasp and picks them up to give a closer look. You smile when you notice she’s handling them like they’re infinitely more breakable then they actually are, like they’ll turn to dust in her hands. She turns them around and around, pausing and narrowing her eyes, and that’s when you know she sees your grandfather’s mark.

“This is one of your grandfather’s custom pieces.” She says, almost breathless. “I’ve heard they used to sell for thousands of dollars.”

“More these days, at least when they’re found and verified.” You tell her.

You don’t go into the history of your grandfather’s jewelry company; you imagine she knows all about his status as one of the “jewelers to the stars,” and how he had endeared himself to the public by designing and manufacturing pieces for the common people to wear as well. You weren’t sure if it was some kind of altruism on his part or just a savvy business decision, but your _Opa_ had secured a legacy of being well-known and well-loved that persisted even now.

“I can’t take these, your grandfather made them for your grandmother.” Karen says, putting the earrings back in the box and trying to hand it back to you. You hold up your hands and step away with a smile.

“Karen, I have no need for them. And both of my grandparents always said to me that jewelry is meant to be worn and loved and appreciated. With me, these earrings-“ and you lift them out of the box and hold them in front of Karen, framing them on either side of her face, the way your _Opa_ had done with his clients, creating a frame of reference for how the piece would look. “Would just gather dust. Besides, I have things to remember my grandparents by. I won’t miss one pair of earrings. They weren’t even her favorites. Those got buried with her, since I couldn’t honor her real wishes.”

Karen raises an eyebrow, and you realize, somewhat belatedly, that you’re probably going to have to explain. You place the earrings back in the box and sigh.

“You **cannot** tell Matt this. He’s going to know eventually, but I would rather-“

“The story comes from you. I understand,” Karen reassures you, and the two of you exchange a smile.

“You’re a good sort, Karen.” You tell her. “So, there’s a bit of background on this. My grandmother was always interested in Jewish mysticism. I guess because in her family, the first son always became a rabbi, but she was an only child, so she sort of took up the slack in learning.”

“There aren’t women rabbis?” Karen asks, and you shrug.

“Not back then. Still not as you slide further toward the Orthodox. But my grandmother studied because she loved her religion, and she loved the mysticism of it, especially. The, uh, weird stuff that most Jews dismiss out of hand. She and her father, who was a rabbi, developed closeness because of her interest, and I swear, Karen, you mention _Yentl_ and I will **hurt** you.” You say, catching Karen’s trying not to smirk.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll behave.” Karen says, doing a little bow and schooling her face into a straight expression.

“So, as I was saying, it meant a lot to _Oma_ , because of her father. And then all the business with the Nazis happened and things happened and _Oma_ never saw her parents again.”

“Did they-“

“Probably. The Nazis weren’t the best record keepers, and besides who cared about a few Jews back then? They’re probably in one of the mass graves, or were cremated, or any other thing the Nazis did to get rid of dead Jews.”

Karen flinches a little at your brutal honesty, and you give her an apologetic smile. It’s not something that makes anyone comfortable when you talk about it, but you try to be gentle, and are genuinely sorry when you upset someone.

“So, after all that, my grandmother… All she had left of her father was those memories of learning of the _tanakh_ and the Talmud and all the rest. The Nazis had taken everything else. So she loved that, and my grandfather, when he married her, knew that. So one of his first pieces, long before he became the jeweler everyone knew, was an amulet of sorts made for my grandmother.”

You smile fondly.

“It was made of various metals, and had gemstones and symbols and things that meant things to my grandmother, for protection and prosperity and so on. It was… very crude in comparison to all the jewelry people associate with my grandfather now.” You giggle, and it startles Karen, a little. You lower your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Karen, it was the **ugliest** thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Karen joins you in your giggling now. You know she’s seen other pieces of your grandfather’s, and sharing this family secret that not all your grandfather’s jewelry was perfect and polished was humorous.

“But she loved it. She never actually wore it, though, said it was too important to wear in daily life. I thought she was sparing his feelings, but when I was thirteen, after my _bat mitzvah_ , _Oma_ took me aside, and explained to me why this piece of jewelry made by _Opa_ was so important. Every stone, every etched symbol and saying in Hebrew. She told me she wanted to be buried with it, to have both her father’s memory and her husband’s love close when she was alone in the ground.”

And somewhere in your telling, you see the look of comprehension in Karen’s face.

“And that didn’t happen.” She finishes for you. You smile again, but it seems less wistful and sadder this time.

“No.” you say. “It didn’t.”

You bite your lip and look Karen in the eye.

“The necklace was stolen at some point when my _Oma_ was moved to hospice two years after my _bat mitzvah_. It wasn’t _Opa_ , obviously, and it wasn’t me. My brother... He was over at the house a lot then, all big and full of himself because he was an estate lawyer and thought he was in his element. My uncle Durin, _Opa_ ’s lawyer, rapidly disabused him of this notion, and shortly after, the necklace went missing.”

“So he-“ Karen begins, but you shake your head.

“No proof. The necklace disappeared, and it’s been missing ever since. I always thought it would turn up in a pawn shop or someone would come forward after _Opa_ himself died, since his custom pieces went for a mint after his death, but…” you trail off, shaking your head. “That was part of the reason my brother and I… I started hating him after that. Then the whole business continued with _Opa_ , because my brother’s ego is more important than observing the rites, and Matt was the last straw for **him** , and now we don’t speak and good riddance to the whole mess.” You smile at Karen, but the smile is bitter and fake and you can tell she knows.

Karen picks up the box with the earrings and moves it around in her hands.

“You really loved them. Your grandparents.” Karen says softly.

“I did, and I do. Enough to know they would be happy knowing those earrings-“ You nod at the box. “are being worn and loved by someone.”

Karen nods, and puts the box in her own purse.

“Thank you,” she says, like you’ve given her something greater than a pair of long-forgotten earrings.

You murmur an acceptance of her thanks, and are about to leave when the door opens, and Foggy and Matt walk in.

“Oh, you’re here.” Matt says, and you smile at his attempt to keep up the blind man charade in front of Karen. You let him give you a quick kiss.

“Just talking with Karen,” you say, and the two of you look at each other and nod in silent understanding.

You know Matt heard it all, but it’s nice to know Karen can keep your secrets safe.

* * *

 

Matt, surprisingly, never asks about your talk with Karen. You had expected it when you went out with him that night, but it’s like any other night and he never says a word before dropping you off at home so he can go do his nightly rounds. You wonder if he’s angry you shared the story with Karen before him, but he doesn’t say anything about it and after a few days, you relax and let the matter go in your head.

So of course, after a week or so, you’re leaving a meeting with a publisher when you run into your brother, quite literally, outside the publisher’s office. You go to apologize to the person you ran into, when you look up and see your brother’s face staring back at you.

Also, an **impressive** black eye.

“Oh, it’s you.” You say, trying to appear relaxed and nonchalant.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what this is about.” Your brother spits at you, and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You ran into me, dude. I’m the one with a reason to be here.” You say, trying for levity.

Your brother snorts, and reaches into his coat, and for a split second you’re terrified. You think he’s reaching for a gun, and you’re praying and thinking of what they’ll say to Matt and **Oh, god, what will Matt do to him** when your brother’s hand comes out, holding a manila envelope. He all but shoves it at you, and you’re so surprised you can do little but take it, noting numbly it feels heavy at the bottom.

“Call off your dog.” Your brother snaps at you before walking away, and you stare after him, still trying to calm your thoughts.

You almost know what’s in the envelope before you open it, and you reach out a hand to brace yourself against the wall when you recognize the contents of the envelope. A multicolored mesh of metals stares back at you, and tears spring to your eyes in a strange mix of relief and sorrow.

* * *

 

“So, you two have plans for this weekend?” Foggy asks.

It’s Friday, two days after your strange meeting with your brother, and you’ve joined Matt, Karen, and Foggy for drinks at Josie’s. You had gone to temple services that evening, and asked Rabbi Blumenthal what you should do about the returned amulet. You were still mulling over the answer you were given. Or lack of one. Typical.

“No plans,” Matt says, but he’s looking at you with a face of concern. You smile and take his hand, squeezing gently to tell him you’re okay.

“Yeah, just taking it easy.” You say.

“You two are the most boring couple in the world.” Foggy proclaims.

“I dunno, Fog, our passive-aggressive disagreements on the order of the Old Testament are some interesting stuff.” Matt says with a grin.

“ _Du farkirtst mir di yorn_ ,” you mutter with a playful eye roll.

The banter continues until you and Matt leave the bar together.

“Your place or mine?” Matt asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, before shaking your head. “Yours. Listen, Matt-“

Matt looks at you, and that concerned look is back.

“Yes?” he asks.

You almost ask him. You know already, but there’s a difference between knowing and being told the truth. But in the end, you falter.

“I’ll be visiting my grandparents in the cemetery for a bit tomorrow, if you’d like to come.” You tell him. You hadn’t planned on doing so, or telling him that, but at that moment, as you’re saying it, you know that all of this is the right thing to do.

“Of course. If you’d like me to.” And he takes your hand and squeezes it the way you did his in the bar, like a silent understanding.

The next morning, after breakfast, you call for a car to take you and Matt to the Jewish cemetery where your grandparents are buried, explaining to him the protocol you follow when you visit.

“It’s been over thirty days since I visited them last, so I have to say this particular prayer first. Don’t worry about it; you don’t have to do anything other than placing a stone at the graveside. I tend to do a lot of praying because I don’t visit very often-“

“And it’s with the left hand, right?” You pause and look at Matt when he asks the question. “When you pray at the gravesite and placing the stone?”

“Yes.” You smile, and lower your voice to a soft whisper. “Thank you, Matt.”

You don’t remember telling him that. He must have looked for the information on his own.

When you reach the cemetery, you lead Matt to your grandparents’ graves. You squeeze Matt’s hand and step forward, placing your left hand on their shared gravestone.

“ _Baruch ata adonai Elo-kenu melech ha-olam asher yatzar etchem badin, v'dan v'chilkail etchem badin, v'hemit etchem badin, v'yode-ah mispar koolchem badin, v'atid l'ha-chazir ul-ha-chayot etchem badin. Baruch ate adonai-m'chayeh hemetim._ ” You say, before stepping back to join Matt.

It’s a happy visit, with you introducing Matt to your grandparents as if they were really there, Matt dutifully saying hello to your grandparents and promising to take care of you even though he’s probably not what they expected.

“They only expected love, Matt.” You say softly, and Matt smiles at you.

“Still.” He says, and you smile back and brush your forehead against his.

When the visit is beginning to wind down, you look to Matt nervously.

“Matt? Can I have a moment alone, please?” you ask, knowing he’ll probably still hear but also knowing you’re okay with it.

Matt smiles and gives you a gentle kiss. “Take all the time you need.” He tells you. He nods at the graveside. “Should I-?”

“No, I’ll call you back for that.” You say, and he nods and walks a respectable distance away.

You face the graveside, shifting to stand at your grandmother’s side of the grave.

“He’s a good guy, _Oma_. Really.” You say. Then you reach into your purse, pulling out the envelope. “He got it back. He thinks I don’t know, probably. But it doesn’t take a genius. He understands, _Oma_ , even for someone of a different faith.”

You kneel beside the grave, thinking you should have brought a trowel or something. But you manage well enough with your hands to dig a deep enough hole for the amulet. You take it out of the envelope and place it in the hole, and cover it again. You dust off your hands as best you can.

“It’s the best I can do,” you say to the gravestone. “If I had memorized it, I would say the burial Kaddish, but I don’t. Sorry, _Oma_ and _Opa_. The dirt under my nails will have to do.” And you press your left hand to the gravestone and silently say a prayer before you stand.

“Okay, you can come back.” You say in Matt’s direction.

The two of you place the stones on top of the gravestone and say your goodbyes and walk back to the car you hired, your hand in Matt’s. Once back in the car, you look at Matt, thinking you might say something, but you settle for resting your head on his shoulder, smiling and deciding that some things don’t need saying.

**Author's Note:**

> - _Oma_ and _Opa_ : See [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6256051#work_endnotes).  
> \- The question on women rabbis: like the Reader Character says, there aren't women rabbis in the Orthodox tradition of Judaism, and women rabbis weren't a thing at all until post-WWII (starting in the 1970s, I believe, though women acted in similar roles previously).  
> -the _tanakh_ : See [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6256051#work_endnotes).  
> -The Talmud: See [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7168058#work_endnotes).  
> - _bat mitzvah_ : See [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6449029#work_endnotes).  
> -The amulet: Okay, this is pure literary device here. It's not any tradition for such things. It meant to show many things: the grandmother's love for her father, the grandparents' love for each other, the Reader Character's anger at its loss and what losing it meant for her grandmother, and finally, Matt's love for the character when he makes plans for its return (in case you missed it, it's heavily implied Matt roughed her brother up a little and ~~probably~~ threatened him into returning the amulet. I may show the scene in an upcoming work later, of fragments and things that never make it into the main series).  
>  - _Du farkirtst mir di yorn_ : Yiddish for "You'll be the death of me."  
> -Visiting a Jewish graveside: Pretty much what's in the text, prayers are to be said with the left hand on the gravestone, you place a stone on the gravesite before you leave (doing do with your left hand), and you say a specific prayer (see below) when it's been longer than thirty days since you've visited a Jewish cemetery. There's other stuff, like no blessings being said at the grave or no praying specifically to the deceased, but that's a lot of irrelevant info. The point of the discussion is to show that Matt is learning about the Reader Character's religion on his own, which is another quiet way he shows love.  
> - _Baruch ata adonai Elo-kenu melech ha-olam asher yatzar etchem badin, v'dan v'chilkail etchem badin, v'hemit etchem badin, v'yode-ah mispar koolchem badin, v'atid l'ha-chazir ul-ha-chayot etchem badin. Baruch ate adonai-m'chayeh hemetim_ : Hebrew prayer to be said when it's been thirty days since the person has visited. Translation is roughly: "Praised be the Eternal, our God, the Ruler of the Universe who created you in judgment, who maintained and sustained you in judgment, and brought death upon you in judgment; who knows the deeds of everyone of you in judgment, and who will hereafter restore you to life in judgment. Praised be the Eternal who will restore life to the dead."  
> -The amulet's fate: Again, pure literary device/choice.


End file.
